Festival Stuff

The Spring festival season is a great, great time of year. I was channel flipping last night, and one station had clips from last year's Jazz Fest. I stuck around for a few songs, and they flipped to the end of Trombone Shorty's set that closed it out last year. I called the kids in there to look for themselves, even though we were so far back when he played that our images had to have been reduced to a mere pixel or two even on the rare occasions that the camera zoomed out far enough to see the approximiate location where we sat.

Professional festival-goer.

About the part where Shorty got the zillion people jumping up and down, Kolya got fired up. From the stage, Shorty shouted "Now go crazy!" and it was game-on in our upstairs playroom. He smacked his head pretty good on the sloped ceiling while jumping on the couch, but that didn't matter at all.

After the set, we hit rewind, and we did it all over again.

Theskinnyonbenny family went to Festival International de Louisiane this weekend. Our viewing seemed to be heavy with folksy Canadian acts, but they were all good. My favorite show was a Haitian by name of Belo. He really got the crowd fired up too.


Delicious cheese fries.

I was in a wonderful little semi-drowsy state, having had a sandwich and a couple of beers, and sitting out in the sun. If I were more alert, I would have some great crowd video to share, featuring an old guy with socks to his knees and sunscreen smeared sloppily on his skin jumping around like a maniac to a reggae beat sung in Hatian Creole.

The day featured a first for K -- his first outhouse visit. As soon as we got in and closed the door, he said "I want to find 'nother bathroom."

"Well, they're all gross, buddy. In fact, this one isn't really that bad. Probably the best we're going to find."

"What's that in there?" He says, "THEY-ERR".

"Someone else's poop. What do you think of that?"

"I'm gonna tell Mama! I'm going to tell her EWWWWWWWWWW. Someone else's poo poo is in THEY-ERR!"

Some hours later, I took him again. This time, there was a tampon wrapper on the floor.

"What's that?"

"I don't know, dude."

"I know! It's privacy!"

Hanging with Mama.

[Site note: Starting with this post, you can click on an image and see a bigger copy of it. So basically, I'm up to what every other blog had about six years ago -- back when people had blogs.]